


Serendipity

by juicewithbits



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Family Dynamics, Fluff, M/M, everyone is soft, gratuitous POV changes, love love love, so much sappiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-13 01:16:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12972510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juicewithbits/pseuds/juicewithbits
Summary: Prompt-fill for the Malec Fix Exchange!This is the sappiest thing I've ever written, but it's Christmas! So who cares!Takes place immediately after 2x20. An outside (and inside) look at Magnus and Alec's relationship and some family dynamics. There's no real plot, as it's largely introspective, just some mentions of what's happened.I tried working as much of the prompt(s) into this as possible, and I hope it's what you were looking for :)





	Serendipity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fancyachatup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fancyachatup/gifts).



> The prompt: 
> 
> An outsider's POV of Magnus and Alec's relationship, and admiring how happy they are together & how they make each other better people and how much happier Alec is to be with Magnus and vice versa.  
> \- if it was Jace's POV it could be him feeling Alec's Happiness through the bond and then witnessing a private moment (like a cute lovey conversation) and thinking about how Alec deserves happiness.  
> \- if it was izzy's POV it could be her stumbling upon a cute intimate moment of them together and being proud of Alec for finally accepting himself and grateful for magnus' influence  
> \- if it was Maryse's POV (I like to think she's changed by now) she could watch the way they interact and be proud of Alec, grateful for Magnus, and finally admit to herself that the two of them are good for each other.  
> Bonus points for all three POVs
> 
> Also worked in something that was requested in another prompt option of the same request-- I hope you like it!

Catarina knows, logically, that Magnus is fine.

She’d have heard if he wasn’t, and besides, he’s the High Warlock of a major borough—his magic is powerful and unmistakable, like a low, steady hum.  
But she can’t help it; she worries. It’s part of what makes her such an excellent physician: always watchful, always caring (“hovering”, Magnus had said once, after Camille, when he’d been sullen and withdrawn for months and months and she wouldn’t leave him to his own devices no matter how hard he’d pushed her away). She thinks she’d been less kind, centuries ago, but maybe the years have mellowed her.  
_That’s what Ragnor used to say, the old fool_ , she thinks fondly.

When the news of Valentine’s demise reaches the warlocks, who have spent much of the last week maintaining wards around the city, a joyous chaos ensues. She watches Madzie, in the scaly arms of Catarina’s friend Ravenna, pointing skywards, eyes shining, her bright, clear laughter drifting over.

They’re still gathered on the rooftops across the city from where they’d held up the wards, and somewhere up in Queens some warlocks send up magical fireworks. It catches on; soon, the night sky is painted in vibrant colors, bright bursts and swirling shapes.  
The werewolves’ half moon blooms over Manhattan, and the sigil of Lilith’s Children rises up from the crowd and high above Catarina. Cheers erupt around her. The Night Children’s mark joins the others, and that of the faeries. Tonight, the Downworld gets to celebrate. They’re safe, finally, or close enough. It’s a rare feeling. To her surprise she sees an Angelic Rune twinkle in the distance, dancing among the stars.

She checks her phone. Magnus hasn’t called or texted. She hasn’t heard from him since mid-morning. It’s just past 2am now.

Catarina waves at Dot, who’s getting twirled around by a warlock with long, lavender-colored hair. She disentangles herself and comes over, her face flushed and eyes bright.

“What’s wrong?” she asks immediately.

Dot is both perceptive enough and has known Catarina for too long to mistake her guarded expression for anything but worry.

“Nothing, I hope. I’m going over to Magnus’. Or have you heard from him?”

Dot shakes her head. “Not since this morning.”

Catarina hums. “Neither have I. I’m sure he’s fine, but the idiot has gotten in enough trouble over the last few centuries that I’d rather check up on him.”

Dot lets out a small laugh and nods. “Not the worst idea. Since the whole thing with the Lightwood kid, he’s been… different. Not himself. I don’t think he’d have agreed to that whole Seelie Queen business if—” She doesn’t finish her thought, but there is no need.  
  
Catarina shudders. She’d been more perturbed by Magnus’ sudden allegiance to the Queen than she’d let on; the last thing her friend had needed was her doubting him. But there was no denying that his actions were unlike him; Magnus loathed the Seelie Queen, partly because of her penchant for meddling in other people’s lives, but largely because she kept herself and her people so separate from the rest of the Downworld, only stepping in when it benefited the Seelies directly.  
The woman would have pushed every last warlock in New York into that rift to Edom herself if it had proven even the slightest advantage for her kind.

 And after everything Magnus had been through, after Camille and the years of self-inflicted love deprivation, she’d been fairly shocked to hear that Magnus was dating a mortal—and not just any mortal, a _Shadowhunter_ , and a Lightwood at that.

_Wonders never cease._

When Catarina had seen Magnus that day in his loft, what she presumes was shortly after they broke it off, it was like meeting Magnus from decades past; harsh along the edges, the armor back up. She’s seen heartbreak in all its forms, but this had been something else, too. She’d heard about the loss of the Soul Sword, and the Clave’s lies. Broken trust was harder to fix than a broken heart, sometimes.

So she says goodbye to Dot, makes sure Madzie will be brought to her apartment after the festivities are over (Ravenna, who is just as besotted with the little warlock as Catarina herself, immediately volunteers to watch her the rest of the night), and makes her way down to the street where there is room for her to open a portal.

Catarina steps out onto the street a few houses down from Magnus’ tall brick building. His wards won’t let anyone portal in closer; not an unwise policy, even if she’s his friend and it’s a nuisance. The portal wooshes closed behind her and suddenly, it’s very quiet.

She takes a deep breath for what feels like the first time in months.

She’s just about to start walking towards Magnus’ front front door when two figures round the block from the other end of the street. They’re a fair distance away, but Magnus’ spiky hair and the glittering of his rings and necklace are unmistakable, even in the dim light of the streetlamps.

Something stops Catarina from calling out or coming toward them. Instead, she sinks into the shadows of an awning.

The other figure is a few inches taller than Magnus, long-limbed and lithely built. She’s never seen Alec Lightwood in the flesh, but he looks too much like his mother to mistake him for anyone else. His arm is around Magnus’ waist, and the warlock is pressed closely to his side. They both have the slightly slumped posture of the utterly exhausted; it’s been a long day for everyone, Catarina supposes.

Magnus points up at the sky, where the warlocks’ lights still shimmer jauntily in the clear, dark sky. Alec laughs, tired but happy, head tilted back to watch the fireworks. The pair stands beneath the stars and the glittering shapes for a few moments, before Magnus nudges the Shadowhunter, pulling on his hand and starting towards the front door. Alec laughs again, and when he catches up with Magnus, his hand comes up to cup the warlock’s jaw.

He has to bend down just a little to kiss him. Magnus’ hand drifts into Alec’s hair, and Catarina turns away.

She suddenly feels silly, standing here in the shadows, spying on what’s clearly a private moment. She doesn’t quite know if she trusts Lightwood with her best friend’s heart just yet—she doesn’t _know_ him, and after the thing with the Soul Sword—well.

At least for tonight, Magnus is safe. And, by all accounts, happy.

Catarina walks quietly down the street, and doesn’t look back. When she rounds the corner, she summons a portal back to the rooftop.

She leaves the two of them there, on a street in Brooklyn, sharing a kiss under the stars, with the warlocks’ fireworks still dancing in the sky.

 

***

 

By any standards, it’s disgustingly early.

Izzy wouldn’t even dream to be up at this hour, usually. Except for morning patrol, maybe, or practice sessions, or— she sighs.

The Institute is in a bit of a state after last night; the drunken haze seems to linger.  
Anyone who wasn’t at the Hunter’s Moon partied here, duties be damned. The hallways are deserted as she makes her way towards the Ops Center. She finds two shadowhunters there, half-asleep and at least a little bit drunk, and sends them to bed, with instructions to knock on the doors of the unfortunate souls signed up for the morning shift.

She checks her phone; Clary had left the Hunter’s Moon somewhere around 4am, sending a nearly unintelligible text saying she would crash at Luke’s; Jace had texted at some point too, assuring her that he’d made it back to the Institute in one piece.

Why the two hadn’t left together after their little episode at Lake Lyn, she isn’t sure, but they seemed fine when she’d left the bar, so she doesn’t worry too much.  
After what had happened with Jace that night (what exactly, she still wasn’t sure; he wasn’t exactly forthcoming about the subject) he probably figured it was better not to worry his siblings more than he already had. He was right to— after the incident with Max, Izzy wasn’t sure she would have been able to take losing a brother, and she’d never seen Alec so scared. He’d hovered close to Jace most of the night, but she’d seen him and Magnus slink out of the bar together at some point.

Seeing the two of them apart had been excruciating. There was Magnus, who hadn’t spoken a word at the Downworld meeting, and Alec, who barely managed to keep it together. With a war brewing around them, the Institute had needed its leader more than ever, and Alec was determined to fulfill the role, no matter the cost. She’d still found him crying in his room that night, after their meeting about the Mortal Mirror, coming to check on him only because something had seemed off, but she hadn’t been sure what it was.

She remembers how he’d sat on the floor with his back to the bed, one knee pulled to his chest and arms hugging himself. It was difficult for someone of Alec’s stature to look small, but he’d seemed so young then, lost in a way that had scared her. She had never seen her brother cry before, not ever, not even when he was twelve and their parents moved back to Idris for good. Izzy, only nine, had cried for days then, and Alec would come to her room every night without fail for nearly a month with cookies and hot chocolate, and he didn’t say a word, not even to Jace, when she invariably wound up in his bed for cuddles (not because she was scared, that was ridiculous) night after night.

But that night, Izzy had sat down next to him,and put a hand on his shoulder; he’d stiffened at first, and she thought he would tell her to leave, but then he had leaned into his sister’s comforting touch. She’d held him for hours, well into the morning, and felt him shake in her arms as he cried quietly into her shoulder.

Her little mission to at least get the two of them talking again had been successful. Out on the beach, Magnus had been curt and somewhat hostile, but it was plain as day that the two still cared for each other. And later, when Alec had felt Jace being ripped away, their shared rune fading, Magnus had been there, too.

Izzy had been too in shock herself to be of much help; Jace was her brother in all but blood. Alec, scared and in pain, had clung to Magnus like he was a lifeline, the warlock muttering soft assurances while his hand drew circles on Alec’s back.

Izzy yawns and pulls up the holographic map of the city. The blue light is harsh and she has to blink a few times to adjust her eyes. The demons seem to be lying low, at least for now. In the pocket of her sweatpants, her phone gives a small buzz.

She pulls it out and finds a text from Alec, finally, after she’d sent _You OK? Comin home?_ at 1:38am.

_Will be over in an hr or so. Stayed at the loft._

Izzy can’t help the massive grin that spreads across her face.

 _Thank god_ , she types in as a response, adding two of those smirking moon emojis she knows Magnus is very fond of for good measure.

Over the last week, she’s realized she can’t even imagine the two of them not being together. They’re so perfect for each other it’s ridiculous. Her brother, who’d been so closed off, tightly-wound, even callous sometimes— so deeply, utterly unhappy— had smiled more in the last 4 months than in the past 23 years of his life put together. They may seem like an odd couple, with Alec so private and reserved, and Magnus so outgoing and flashy, but really, that just helps. T  
hey balance the other out. They make each other laugh. They support one another.

She wonders whether the two even notice how obviously in love they are. Always gravitating towards each other when they’re in the same room, casual, gentle touches, shared smiles and looks.

It makes her feel a little alone sometimes, not because Magnus is taking up a lot of Alec’s time—Angel, she’s more than glad to trade Alec’s miserable silence on the occasional movie night for his happiness, even if it means seeing him less—but because she wishes so much she could have what they have.  
She doesn’t know if she ever will. But the fact that her brother has found someone he loves so much, and is so loved in return, gives her hope. Not least of all because she knows Alec had felt the same as she does now, once. He’d gone for over twenty years thinking that even if he found someone (which she knows for a fact he had deemed highly unlikely), he’d forbidden himself from acting on it.

Not that staying closeted was entirely a choice. Idris still doesn’t look too kindly at anyone who doesn’t stick to the “traditional” family setting. But here Alec is in spite of it all, dating a male warlock, Head of the New York Institute, happy and thriving.

Izzy couldn’t be prouder.

She finds herself drifting to the training room, thinks about practicing with her staff a bit. The first rays of sunlight fall in through the stained windows; shades of gold and red dance across the runed stone floor.

Izzy picks up her staff.

For once, and maybe just for a few hours before the day really begins, the world is alright. But for now, that’s enough.

 

***

 

Alec has to squint against the sunlight streaming in through the bedroom windows.

It’s very early still, and the light is soft and feeble. But for someone who only went to bed about four hours ago, it’s a little much.

Magnus’ hair tickles his nose.

They’re lying in the center of the bed, chest to chest, legs entangled. Alec smiles down at him before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

Magnus mumbles something he doesn’t catch and presses a little closer.

He’s missed this so much. He hasn’t been able to sleep properly in a week; his own bed at the Institute hadn’t felt like his own anymore. It had felt too big, too cold and empty, and besides… he’d spent almost every night at the loft, anyway. Losing Magnus had felt like losing home.

Moving slowly so he doesn’t wake him, Alec reaches over to the nightstand and grabs his phone. It’s early, but he doesn’t like not knowing what’s going on at the Institute. He’d checked in last night, before going to the bar, but the Clave had been virtually unreachable.

Idris had been faced with open war not hours before, and now Valentine is dead; what’s more, one of the highest ranking members of the Clave had been a traitor. Raziel only knows the chaos that has broken loose.

There are some alerts and a short, general memo from Idris, confirming that Valentine has been eliminated. Nothing urgent.

There are some private texts from various people— a completely unintelligible one from Luke, of all people, which is just a string of letters with spaces in seemingly random intervals, but followed by a string of heart emojis in various colors; several from Jace, but those are mostly just to let him know that his brother had seen him and Magnus leave together through the backdoor of the bar (there is a crude pun there, too, of course, because that’s Jace).

He rubs his parabatai rune absently through his shirt as he reads through the texts; it’s still sore, but that reminds him that it’s _there_.

That Jace is still there.

In truth, he and Magnus had barely made it up to the loft, both too tired (and in Magnus’ case, a little drunk) to even think of anything besides a hot shower and sleep. Things are still a little frail between them, Alec knows.

He’d broken Magnus’ trust, and he would have to work on earning it back. Magnus doesn’t hold grudges, but he has every right to feel hurt. But he’s given their relationship another shot, and Alec is determined not to waste it.

Izzy has texted him too, asking where he is— he smiles at the idea of his little sister sending out messages to their little motley crew of a family, looking out for them all. He shoots a quick text back and her response comes almost instantly.

He grins. Izzy is probably his and Magnus’ greatest champion. He’d never forget the fact that it was her who invited Magnus to his botched wedding. Without her— god, without her intervention, he would probably have gone through with it. And as much as he likes Lydia, that would not have ended well.

Magnus stirs as he puts the phone away.

“ ‘kay?” is all he manages, voice gravelly from sleep.

Alec settles back against the pillow and grins. Magnus’ fluffy hair has a cowlick from where he’s slept on it, sticking upwards at a strange angle.

He blinks blearily.

“All okay.” Alec pulls him a little closer.

“Do you have to leave?” Magnus mumbles where his face is pressed into the crook of Alec’s neck.

“Not for a little while.”

He feels Magnus’ warm breath against his skin, calm and steady.  
His eyes are falling closed again before he knows it.

 

***

 

“Alec.”

There is a gentle hand on his arm.

“Alec.”

The hand shakes him slightly.

“Mrrrrm.”

He hears Magnus chuckle a little.

“Come on. Some kind of alarm went off on your phone. Time to head an Institute, honey.”

Alec yawns loudly and stretches like a cat in a way that always makes Magnus laugh. He knows it looks silly, pushing all his limbs downward and his chin against his chest, toes pointed, muscles coiled tight like a string.

He opens one eye, begrudgingly, and sniffs.

Magnus is standing over him, dressed in black sweats and a burgundy robe that can only very generously be described as clothing. He’s so beautiful Alec can feel his knees go weak, and he’s still lying in bed, so that’s saying something.

“Is there coffee?” Alec asks hopefully, hoping he has interpreted the smell coming from the kitchen correctly.

“Of course. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you face the Clave without caffeine?”

Something warm and fuzzy settles in Alec’s stomach.

 _Boyfriend_.

Magnus wanders off back into the kitchen, announcing vague intentions of conjuring up some waffles, and leaves Alec to take a quick shower and slip back into his clothes.

Faced with putting on his boxers from the day before, he goes to borrow some from Magnus, but then looks over to the drawer where he’d kept spares of clothes for when he slept over. He doesn’t dare hope that Magnus hasn’t burned every last bit of it, but when he pulls it open, there everything still is.

Alec didn’t know some socks and shirts could make him so happy, but here he is.

Now dressed, he joins Magnus in the kitchen. The warlock has succeeded in procuring those waffles after all, and Alec finds he is a lot hungrier than he thought.

“What’s your plan for today?” he asks Magnus between bites.

“Trying to get everything back under control. Make sure no one did anything stupid. See if anyone is hurt, though I doubt it. Confer with the other High Warlocks, probably Catarina and some others, too, about how to go from here. I think that Downworld Cabinet of yours should have a meeting again soon.”

Alec frowns.

“It’s not _my_ cabinet. That’s kind of the whole point, Magnus.”

“I know, I know, darling. But you founded it.”

Magnus gets up to refill their empty coffee cups.

“What’s your schedule for today?” he asks as he finishes his breakfast and pushes the plate away from himself.

Alec checks his phone. The alarm Magnus had told him about was a message from Inquisitor Herondale.

“Clean-up, mostly. Setting up new work schedules for everyone now that our priorities have shifted. The Inquisitor has requested a meeting sometime in the afternoon. I don’t even want to know what’s going on in Alicante right now. With Consul Malachi having been a Circle member, there’s probably a witch hunt in progress.”

He stuffs the last bite of waffle into his mouth.

“Not that that’s a bad thing, with the decisions the Clave has made in the last few months I’m willing to bet there’s a bunch of them still around. But…”  
He drifts off, staring at his now empty plate.

“You’re worried your parents might be under suspicion,” Magnus finishes the thought.

Alec sighs.

“I know they got off lightly back then. And a few months ago, when I first found out about it, I was so mad I wouldn’t have cared what happened to them. But recently, my mom has been trying so hard, and— I just don’t want her to get hurt.”

Magnus knows about some of the punishment the Clave deals out. Not all of it, of course; a lot of their customs and rituals is still a mystery to him, even after hundreds of years and the few Shadowhunters he’s known enough to care about. They’re an intensely secretive society, and mostly exclude Downworlders from their goings-on.  
But what he does know makes him shudder to think about; runes cut from skin, exile, torture, elaborate “purity” rituals that not infrequently end in death or madness.

“Your parents have worked tirelessly for the Clave for over twenty years now. I doubt Idris would go back on their pardon. And the contributions of their children to winning the war against Valentine can’t be ignored either, of course.”

He smiles at Alec a little lop-sidedly, and he’s not quite sure how or why, but Alec feels a lot better.

“I’ll send her a message later. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

They drink the rest of their coffees while chatting away idly, about the fireworks from last night, and about how hilariously drunk Luke had been, staying away from more serious subjects as best they can.

Like the fact that Magnus had been very close to leaving the realm, or that Alec had thought he’d lost his brother not twenty-four hours ago.

Finally, Alec gets up.

“I really gotta go. If it’s not too late tonight, I could come back?”

Magnus nods happily.

“I’ll be up late anyways, I should think. But even if not, you’re always welcome.”

Alec wraps his arms around him, bending down because Magnus is still sitting at the counter. His lips are soft and warm as always, brushing lightly against Magnus’ own.

“Thank you,” Alec says, very quietly and with a serious expression.

“For breakfast?” Magnus asks, a little bewildered.  
It’s not like he’s labored away at the stove.

“For everything,” Alec whispers, and kisses him again.

 

***

 

When Alec walks into the Institute, it’s just past 9:00am, and the old church is still relatively quiet.

He’s tired. Now that the immediate danger is over, he feels the sleepless nights catch up to him. He yawns.

“Hey, big brother.”

Izzy walks towards him, from the Ops Center.

She’s just showered, he thinks; her long dark hair is still a little wet and frizzy.

“So. You and Magnus?”

She looks at him expectantly and Alec finds himself smiling.

“We’re okay. Mostly.”

Izzy beams. She links their arms and walk together.

“Thank the Angel. Magnus is the best shopping buddy I’ve ever had, imagine the tragedy…”

She fills him in on the few things that have happened that morning. Word from Idris hasn’t arrived yet, but Alec thinks the Inquisitor is going to fill him in soon enough. For now, they have to make sure they have all their ducks in a row here in New York.

He and Izzy spend the morning talking to patrol leaders, setting up rotations and teams. By noon, they’ve gotten through the worst of it.

Izzy is threatening to cook lunch, so Alec follows her into the kitchen to make sure she doesn’t burn the place down (and order some take-out for when her endeavor inevitably fails). On the way, they run into a very squinty-eyed Clary who is stumbling through the double doors.

“Morning, beautiful!” Izzy chirps, and Clary shushes her with a wave of her hand.  
She looks pretty miserable.

“Come on. Let’s get you some coffee,” Alec says, and Clary looks up at him gratefully.

They are busy with coffee and Thai food when Jace stumbles in, similarly bleary-eyed and his blond hair a mess. He slumps down onto a chair between Clary and Alec, who pushes a cup and the coffee pot towards him without a word. Jace grunts in thanks.

Alec frowns a little. He and Jace haven’t really had a chance to talk after yesterday. Their bond still feels… brittle. Unstable. It scares him, but Jace was unwilling to talk last night and he’s in a bit of a mood at the moment, Alec can tell.

Clary nudges Jace a little and gives him a soft smile. Jace, despite what must be a wicked hangover, grins back like an idiot. Unfortunately, he forgets to hold his coffee cup upright and some of it spills on the table. Neither of the two notices.

Izzy catches his eye and the exchange a knowing look; it was only a matter of time, they both know.

They leave Jace and Clary in the kitchen, Izzy to go on patrol, Alec to get ready for his meeting with the Inquisitor. He’d rather fight a hundred of those Edomei demons than deal with Jace’s grandmother, and when he tells his sister so, she just winks and heads off to the armory.

Alec sighs.

It’s going to be a long day.

 

***

 

Raphael is tired.

That’s hard to do for someone who is not technically alive.

He’s been running around the DuMort almost the entire day, trying to figure out if everyone was accounted for after the night before or if anyone is slowly sizzling away in a ditch somewhere, trying to contact other clans, figuring out their stance on the Nephilim… And all without that stupid Daylighter, who was meant to be their connection to the werewolves and the Shadowhunters, and, by the way, _Simon_ , is the only one of them who can run around in the sun and actually go talk to people during the day.

Raphael huffs.

He drags himself up the stairs to Magnus’ loft. He knows Catarina will be there, too, but he’s known her nearly as long as Magnus, so he’s not altogether unhappy to be out of the DuMort.

He lets himself in and finds the two warlocks in the kitchen, Magnus mixing drinks and Catarina stirring the contents of a massive pot that are bubbling away on the stove.

Raphael sniffs. Yellow curry.

He accepts a crimson drink in a scotch glass from Magnus’ glittery fingers, watching from one of the stools at the counter as Catarina chops coriander and Magnus pours an obscene amount of vodka into a cocktail shaker.

“All I know is that the Queen dropped off the radar,” Magnus says, presumably continuing the conversation he and Catarina had had before Raphael arrived.

“I know several other warlocks who have tried to contact her, as has Luke. She hasn’t answered anyone.”

“Or she’s just doing it for the drama. I don’t trust that woman, Magnus, not as far as I can throw her.”

Magnus chuckles humorlessly.

“I don’t either. If I hadn’t thought she was our only ticket to keep the Downworld safe, do you really I think I would have even spoken to her?”

Catarina snorts and dumps the herbs into the pot and takes it off the heat.

“We both know that wasn’t the most wise decision you’ve ever made, Magnus. But it doesn’t matter now.”

With that, the topic is changed. The two warlocks squabble good-naturedly as Catarina heaps sticky rice onto two plates and Magnus spoons curry over it.

Raphael flops down on the couch, staring unseeingly into the crackling fire that’s warming up the room, until Magnus drops a large cup of blood into his hands. The warlock steps over Raphael’s splayed-out legs, tutting at him, to light some candles as Catarina sets down their plates on the coffee table and lets herself fall into the cushions next to Raphael.

The vampire carefully cups his drink and takes a long sip. It’s probably been too long since he’s last fed, he realizes, as his body immediately responds to the blood. Suddenly feeling more alert and in a much more amiable mood, he tunes into the conversation Catarina and Magnus are having.

“I just don’t see how it’s any of your business, darling,” Magnus says, but without any malice. He’s grinning and the slight blush on his cheeks perks Raphael’s interest. Not that he’d ever let the two warlocks know that he cares about their private lives. He has a reputation to maintain.

“I just wanna know what he did to get back on your good side, that’s all! After all, might come in handy for me one day,” she says, scooping some curry into her mouth.

“As if you could ever get on my bad side, Cat.”

“Aww.”

They’re talking about Alec. Raphael hadn’t known he and Magnus made up. He waits to see if they discuss it more, but Catarina is suddenly very taken by her dinner and doesn’t press the issue. After about a minute, Raphael can’t help it.

“So? What’d Alec do?”

Magnus looks up at him, amusement clear on his face. He knows Raphael too well not to see through his feigned indifference.

Raphael is secretly an incorrigible gossip, and the warlock knows it.

“Well.”

Magnus takes a drink of his wine sheepishly. Before he can continue, the door to the loft opens.

Alec Lightwood trudges in, closing the door behind himself and shrugging out of his jacket. The nephilim turns and does a small double-take when he sees their modest congregation.

“Alexander!”

Magnus practically leaps from the couch.

Cat and Raphael trade bemused glances at his eagerness.

“Hey,” Alec says quietly as there is suddenly an armful of warlock pressed into his chest. He presses a small kiss to Magnus’ temple and they break apart.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you’d be having company,” Alec says, looking a little trepidacious.

Raphael hasn’t really seen him looking anything less than completely self-assured before, he realizes. It’s a little strange, but he supposes he’s been starting to think of the Shadowhunters as actual people as of late, instead of the mindless drones he assumed them to be.

“No worries. You hungry?” Catarina asks.

Raphael is more than a little surprised by this. Cat is more than a little protective of Magnus, and he’d assumed she’d be a lot more wary around the nephilim.

“Sure,” Alec says, and she gets up to get him a plate.

The nephilim looks after her a little stunned as she makes off into the kitchen, clearly not expecting her to be so friendly. Raphael knows the two haven’t met before, but Alec surely realizes Cat is Magnus’ closest friend and knows all about their fallout.

Which makes the way she’s acting even stranger.

She’s trying to be _nice_. Catarina Loss, being _nice_.

To a _Shadowhunter_?

Who's hurt Magnus?

Raphael is momentarily too confused to compute anything more, so he drinks some more blood and says nothing.

Magnus and Alec sit down on the couch across from Rafael, looking just as sickeningly in love as they have for months. Raphael wants to be indifferent, maybe even a little annoyed, but he just can’t.

Despite what’s happened, he knows Magnus is happier than he has been in decades. And Raphael can’t help but be thrilled about that.  
He cares too much about the damn warlock.

“How are things at the DuMort?” Alec asks, tentatively.

Raphael likes to think they’ve gotten over their whole fight about Isabelle, but he knows Alec is testing the waters with him—because of Magnus.  
He’s making an effort with the warlock’s friends, and Raphael can appreciate that.

He’s also a genuinely good guy who’s using his new authority to improve relations with the Downworld, and there’s something to be said for that, too, the vampire supposes.

“Messy. We’ll get through it.”

Alec nods in understanding as Catarina returns and hands him a plate.

“Thank you,” he says, in a tone and with impossible doe eyes that transport Raphael back years and years, to Sunday mornings when Rosa was little and would beg and beg their mother to wear her fine hat to church, the one with the bright feathers on top that their father had bought her at the fair.  
“Not to church,” their mother would say every week, sternly.  
And Rosa would look at her, say please, and their mother would melt.  
“Just this once,” she would say, every week.

Catarina pauses briefly on her way back to her spot next to Raphael, who shakes himself out of his reverie.

“You're welcome,” she says, and her words are genuine.

They talk for a while, and to Raphael’s surprise, it’s not weird with Alec there.

He’s a bit awkward, but that’s because he’s trying a little too hard, which is honestly kind of endearing, so it doesn’t really matter.

Raphael watches Magnus intertwine his and Alec’s fingers and the nephilim beams at him. They laugh about something Raphael doesn’t catch, and it seems effortless in a way that makes something settle in his chest.

“They’re kinda cute together, aren’t they,” Catarina says quietly, nudging his ribs a little with her elbow.

Magnus and Alec are animatedly discussing the virtues of free-range salmon, of all things.

“I guess,” Raphael says.

He internally debates whether he should ask what he wants to ask her, then decides he might as well.

“You seem… amicable. I’ve seen you play poltergeist in a man’s apartment for two months after he broke Magnus’ heart, so what gives?”

Catarina looks over at the couple (who have now switched their discussion to the fat content of tuna) thoughtfully.

“I thought I was going to have to reprise that role for a bit,” she admits. “But then I saw them together last night. I think the poltergeist might not have to make an appearance.”

They both look at the couple across from them.

“But we’ll give him The Talk?” Raphael asks.  
It’s almost a ritual at this point. Ragnor would have delighted in giving a Shadowhunter a stern talking-to about treating Magnus right, he thinks.

Catarina smirks at him.

“Please. I’ve already made a draft,” she says, grinning into her glass.

On the other couch, Alec leans in so he can whisper to Magnus.

“Do you think they like me?” he asks, sounding genuinely worried.

Magnus smiles and squeezes his hand, which is firmly in his own.

“ _I_ like you. That’s enough for them.”

Alec’s eyes soften. He presses a small kiss to Magnus’ lips, discreetly, because Alec isn’t much one for PDA.

“But if it matters—I think they like you, too.”


End file.
